NECESSITY IS THE MOTHERFUCKER OF INVENTION
©1998 A Halo Called Fred

DIG

Well, I can dig it to China, my friend. It shouldn't turn out like this in the end. We'll never speak to each other again if we shut up and dig. Well I can dig the most grooviest scene, and dig the trippiest fantasy scene, and dig the shittiest crap that I've seen, so shut up and dig. I'm digging the truth. I'm digging a lie. I'm digging a girl who's digging a guy. I'm digging a hole to crawl in and die, so shut up and dig. Hot diggity dog, hot diggity boom what you do to me, digging the stuff you could do to get through to me. Brother this digging stuff all seems so new to me. Dig? I'm digging a duck and digging it well. I'm digging a tunnel going to Hell. I'm digging the funky way that I smell, so shut up and dig. Well, I can dig it to China my friend. It shouldn't turn out like this in the end. We'll never speak to each other again if we shut up and dig. (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

MINUET IN F

I think it would be fun if we fucked, don't you? Because fucking is the kind of thing that's lots of fucking fun to do. But every time I ask you, you say, "Fuck You! Just fuck off you stupid fuck head. I've got better fucking things to do." Now What's-Her-Name had intercourse with General Patton, but who cares, 'cause they were married and they used a word derived from Latin. Freaky folks and funky folks fuck. So do ya wanna fuck shit up and fuck my friend or fuck it? What's it fucking to ya? I think it would be fun if we fucked. No doubt we'd fuck the bullshit, fuck the fucking with our heads and fuck our fucking brains out. Fuck infuckingcredibly. Won't say it sucked. Except that's real unfuckinglikely and I'm absofuckinglutely fucked. (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

THE KING OF BEAN

I'm the King of Bean. The King of important Bean. The Bean of King. The Bean of important King. So come with me. Together we'll be the King of Bean of King and Bean of King of Bean. But prithee tell me Sire, what makes yonder Bean important? For 'tis the only Bean possessing the glorious rule of King! But humor me again, Sire, what makes yonder King important when his subject is naught but Bean? And what King is not important when so moved to rule justly over his domain? And one day, when the science of Bean cloning is perfected and the Kingdom of Bean becomes a vast Bean Empire, none shall live in fear of the dull omnivorous teeth of the oppressive human classes. Love not my Bean with a passion that equals consumption. Soak not my Bean in the softening waters of Satan. bake not my Bean in burritos with spices and cheeses. Eat not my Bean yummy yummy. Grind not my Bean with the blades of a thousand propellers. Freeze not my Bean with the cold of a thousand day winter. Brew not my Bean with the heat of a thousand eruptions. Drink not my Bean yummy yummy. I'm the King. King Bean. Bean King. Bean Bean. King Come. Me too. King Bean King Bean King Bean. Bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla important bla. Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow important meow. So come with me. Forever we'll be the King of Bean of King and Bean of King of Bean. (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

NEKKID HOEDOWN

Here at the nekkid hoedown, gone take off 'r' close 'n' danse aroun'. Here at the nekkid hoedown, gettin nekkid at nature's hoedown. Gone take off 'r' close. Gone roll inna mud. Gone stank like pigs in slop. Gone raise us a fuss. Gone get onna bus. Gettin' off at the nature's hoedown. Gone let down 'r' hair, gone git up fer air, gone danse 'n' flip 'n' flop. Hoedown hoedown hoedown. Ev'rybody better flop inna breeze now. Gone raise us a mess. Gone put on a dress. Take it off at the nature's hoedown. Here at the nekkid hoedown, gone take off 'r' close 'n' danse aroun'. Here at the nekkid how-down, gettin nekkid at nature's hoedown. (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

CHICKEN BOY

His name is Chicken Boy. He is a chicken. He is a boy. It fits. Chicken Boy. And Chicken Boy, he looks like a Chicken Boy. I know this guy named Dave who looks just like a Harold. Every time I see him I go, "Hey Harold! How ya doin'?" And he says, "I'm not Harold. I'm Dave." And I'm like, "Oh Dave! I'm so sorry! I keep calling you Harold!" I'm so fucking stupid. I keep calling Dave Harold. But Chicken Boy, he looks like a Chicken Boy. His name is Chicken Boy. He is a chicken. He is a boy. It fits. Chicken Boy. (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

SATAN'S LULLABY

Sleep my darling, close your eye. Satan keeps you warm and dry. Hush now baby, don't you cry. I'll sing you Satan's lullaby. Satan's lullaby. (Mommy? Who's the nice man? Is he going to give us presents? Is eternal damnation like chocolate?) Close your eyes. Don't shed a tear. Satan's arms are always near. The world is cold and wet outside. The flames of hell are warm and dry. Satan's lullaby. (Now I lay me down to sleep. Satan keeps me warm.) (LYRICS BY GEVEREND, BRUSHWOOD AND JIM BOB)

CLOWN NOSE

I'm frightened of the clown nose. It looks like it's getting bigger. I don't think there's any more room. It's got biceps like Schwarzenegger. We all fear the clown nose. Soon it will take over. It's red like the fires of Hell or the hat of Smokey Stover. Its big red shoes will stomp on your world. You soon will know the clown nose. Its tone will pierce your soul. Its grip will make sure you're free or fall forever though the nostril hole. I have become the clown nose. At last I understand. It talks in tongues. I hear it. Its wish is my command. (LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)

I THINK I'LL GO BACK THERE

Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful or love me 'cause I'm pitiful. I don't think for a moment that you do. Don't hate me when I criticize the quintessential curly fries. You say they match her big brown eyes. I say they don't -- fuck you. And if you want you can peel my skin off. I don't want my muscles bare, but I hear they can be beautiful when they glisten in the air. I never liked you. Never will. But hey, who really cares. I can still relive the imagery. I think I'll go back there. There's nothing in my spinal cord, at least that cannot be ignored, or in my shoes and hair to name a few. You tell me my page filled with verse and conversations I rehearse are meaningless and getting worse. Well, yeah, but so are you. You've taken everything that I own now. It may not seem like much, but I have a rare disease destroying everything I touch. I never liked you. Never will. But hey, who really cares. I can still relive the imagery. I think I'll go back there. (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

HYPOTHETICAL TWIST

You wanna hear about it. You wanna know the latest craze! So I sat around and I thought about it for days. It's the Hypothetical Twist. In your mind it goes like this. Suppose you twist your body to the left and the right. If you think about it you can go all night. You say you don't have the time to sing and dance and jump and shout and leap. We'll make it so easy, you can even do it in your sleep. Don't feel left out 'cause you think that you got no rhythm. Just because you stand like a statue when the music hits. Inside you're Fred Astaire and Madonna's backup dancers rolled into one. There's infinity in your toes if you just suppose and do the Hypothetical Twist. You can't believe it. Nothing could be so much fun. Well come on join in, it's every dance you've never ever done. All night. Good night! (LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)

Normalize. Everybody, normalize it. Up your nose.

ZOOM ZEBBATAB

It was the happiest day of my life as I stood there on the podium, about to graduate from vending machine school. The years of classes were finally going to pay off. There were the economics classes that taught me how to make the proper change from money being inserted into me. There were the contortion classes that taught me how to remain perfectly motionless for years on end. There were the foreign language classes that taught me to dispense the right snack when the proper combination of buttons was pushed. There was a great cafeteria to fatten us up to be as large as real vending machines, and to top it all off, the school had a great job placement program. Within moments, society would have gone full circle. We were going to replace the machines that had replaced us! We had programmed the machines to genetically improve their programming upon each successive generation. They eventually replaced the plastic, glass, and metal in their bodies with flesh and blood. Now they were going to return the favor. They were going to replace our flesh and blood with plastic glass and metal, so we too could know the joy of the pure unadulterated profit of loose jangly change that only a vending machine could know! But when we got to the transformation room, I could feel something was wrong. When they wheeled in the new shiny hand-crafted soulless vending machines, I knew they weren't going to transform us. I suspected they weren't even going to put our souls in these machines. They were just going to tell the world that these machines were us. They were really going to kill us and eat us.

(There's one thing that really disturbs me about that last story. I'm going back in time back to when I was a kid and saw the movie The Incredible Shrinking Man. The whole time I'm watching this movie, I'm thinking to myself: Well he's gotta live! He narrating the whole story in past tense! This is a story that happened to him, and he is telling us that it happened. So then the end of the story happens, and he's shrunk away to nothingness, and I'm thinking: Hey man! He's shrunk away to nothingness! How did he go back and tell the story? I've been sitting here for the past two hours suspending my disbelief, just to have it shoved back in my face like this? So the same thing happens with the vending machine story. Here are a few possible additions to the end to make it a bit more plausible. Special Ending #1: The Martyr's Death: I am writing you this note in my own blood on the back of a candy bar wrapper I made off with in the ensuing battle. I do not have long to live. None of us do. I only hope someone in the free world finds this before it's too late. Special Ending #2: The In-Your-Face-Irony: And that's exactly what they did. Special Ending #3: The Cheezy Cop-Out: I suddenly woke up on a pool of sweat. You see, it was all a dream. Special Ending #4: The Cheezy Cop-Out with a Twist: I suddenly woke up on a pool of sweat. You see, it was all a dream. Thank god we machines aren't living in the past where humans had minds of their own. Special Ending #5: The Cheezy Cop-Out with a Twistier Twist: I suddenly woke up on a pool of sweat. You see, it was all a dream. Thank god we humans aren't living in the past where machines had minds of their own. Special Ending #6: The Completely Twist-Free Ending: Fortunately, they turned us into vending machines after all.) (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)

La. Hoo.

JOKE SONG

Joke song joke song. Ha ha ha ha ha ha (so what I don't get it) Deep song deep song. Hmm hmm hmm think think (so what I don't get it) Sad song sad song. Boo hoo hoo cry cry (so what I don't care) Happy song happy song. La la la sing sing. (so what I hate you) Song song song song (so what I hate songs with no words) Chewy song chewy song. Ippa dippa blat pthort pthort (so what am I) (LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)

A PITIFUL SONG

Hey world, whatcha standing all alone for, when there's munchkins laughing? You know they're only laughing at your fears of living in the dark. When you're floating in space, wearing blackness like lace, round the sun in a race, go and get a job. Hey world, someone should poke you in the eye and sing a pitiful song. Hey you. What's your finger in your eye for? Will you shoot yourself? No time, you'll have to shoot everybody else... La la la la la. Oh you're tender and nice, full of sugar and spice, running rampant with lice that I'm slipping in. Hey you. You're only happy 'cause you're paid to sing a pitiful song. And it sounds so wrong. (LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD AND GEVEREND)